Hymn to the Missing
by elleuu2Y5
Summary: After dragging Dean away from Castiel, Sam had him pinned against a pillar in the library. "She is not dead…" Dean yelled again, struggling against Sam's grip. "How can you be so sure?" beseeched Sam. "I can feel her!" Dean admitted. In Sam's shock, Dean managed to push him off. Deflated now, Dean whispered, again, "I can feel her…" (now contains pre-view to God's Gift of Hope)
1. IntroChapter 1

**Author's Note: This is my first fanfiction for Supernatural: Hymn to the Missing. While writing it - I try to stick true to the TV show in two ways - make sure the characters are true to themselves AND write so that the story reads like an actual episode as seen on tv... As such, chapters are more like scenes (reasonably short in length to convey what is happening - each building on the last, to reveal the whole story by the end of the episode) and - you won't get a whole heap of thoughts or feelings of the boys coming through - instead you get a similar experience to watching the show (I hope) - you [the reader] get to fill in the gaps for yourself - imagine what is going on in the boys minds - read between the lines in the way you want to... I understand that not everyone will like that style - but hey each to their own... There will be at least 20 scenes in this first episode and at least another two to follow - feel free to review - or just let me know to keep going (everyone needs a little encouragement)... Enjoy (I hope)**

* * *

Supernatural Mini-series

Episode 1: Hymn for the Missing

By

LW

Scene 1

"Wait. We what?" Mouth open, arms wide, Sam stood there begging her to repeat what she had just said, but he was wishing beyond all reason, that it would be different, the second time around.

Dean, on the other hand, just stood there frozen - showing no emotion - as the world around him was surely crumbling.

A silence fell over the war room, deep within the bunker. No one moved. Sam staring at his mother, Dean staring into space, trapped in a trance, until…

"Why her?" he blurted.

"Dean…" Mary sobbed; her eyes begging him for the forgiveness that she knew was never coming - not this time.

"Why her?" Dean's voice was louder and stronger this time. The emotion rising in his deep and rumbling voice.

Mary's shoulders fell, her head hung low and as she slumped forward, her voice was barely audible, "Because your father wanted a boy."

In that moment, time would have stood still but for the slowly moving hand of the clock by the stairs, the rhythmic ticking the only sound in that vast space.

Mary, arms raised, moved towards Dean, reaching for him, wanting to comfort him, to hold him. The look on his face, as he stepped away from her, told her to stop, his words made it final.

"Get out!" Deep and reserved, a rumble not a whisper, Dean felt so hopeless, powerless, in that moment.

"Dean…" Mary's voice, pleading, shocked and shrill. She was still moving toward him, arms reaching out; not wanting to believe he could be this angry with her, that he would want her to leave.

"Get out!" Dean was shouting this time, but he would not meet the eyes of the woman who had betrayed him and his family for the last time. He turned away from her, before she reached him, and walked into the library. Dean felt he had to get away from her, before doing something he would regret later.

Tears silently spilling from her eyes, Mary spun on her feet, towards Sam, seeking refuge and hoping for forgiveness in his eyes. A forgiveness she would most likely never get from Dean.

Sam's face was a tangled mess of emotions, as he tried to latch onto just one thought, one phrase.

"They were twins?"

It was a statement and it was a question. The only thing that made any sense to Sam.

"Sam. You have to understand…" Mary begged.

"Understand what… What exactly do you want me to understand? That you betrayed your family! Our family. Again. Well, do not worry! I get that." The raw emotion Sam felt exploded into each statement, as he struggled not to yell.

"Sam. Please…" she begged again.

"Please what? Please do not hate me. Please forgive me. Well, I am sorry, but I think you may have tapped out here. This… is… Beyond that… You made a deal like that! A deal with the Demon… To save yourself…" Sam was shaking his head from side to side in disbelief; how could his mother do that? To them.

"Sam…" Mary stepped towards him, pleading with her eyes, voice and body, "Sam…" she cried out again.

"No. Mo…" He struggled with the word – mom - and instead settled on a word that would have cut to her soul "Mary! Dean was right. You need to leave."

Mary did not move.

"Now!" and with that one quiet, but heavily emphasised word, Sam turned his back on her.

Mary stood silently, with tears streaming down her face, she wanted to stay, to fight for her boy's forgiveness, but she knew in her heart that they could not give it to her, not now… Possibly never. She turned and walked towards the stairs, up and out of the bunker.

Slowly, step by step Mary retreated. She seemed to be waiting, hoping for Sam to turn around and call her back.

Eventually, the noise of the door closing behind her reached Sam and he finally breathed out - raw emotion casting a shadow on his face.


	2. Chapter 2

Scene 2

Sam walked into the library to find Dean.

Thought after thought, question after question, racing through his mind.

'What is happening? How is this possible? Is she dead? What happened to her? Is Dean okay? Am I okay? How could Mary do that? What happened to dad? How did dad not know? How could dad let her do it? How could she choose her, our sister? What happens now? Is our sister a Demon now? Will we ever know anything?'

Sam walked up behind Dean and began, "Dean?"

In that one word, Dean could hear all of his brother's unasked questions.

"Is she gone?" Dean choked, though he did not turn around to face Sam.

"Yeah." breathed Sam.

Dean turned then. The tears that brimmed at the edge of his eyes, threatened to fall over and cascade down his face. He was shattered; he stood watching his younger brother, barely holding it together.

Sam desperately wanted to comfort his brother, while his own world fell apart. Unable to find the words, he simply stood there, shaking his head. He lifted his hand to his face, wiping at the tears that were falling freely.

Dean inhaled sharply, and took two steps towards Sam pulling him into a hug, his hand on the back of his head, his other arm holding him fast and he said - eyes to the ceiling - tears finally falling down his own face,

"I know Sammy! I know."


	3. Chapter 3

Scene 3

"Tell me again, why we called Cass?" Sam was standing beside the table, while Dean was slumped in a chair - two untouched bottles of beer sat on the table, forgotten about.

"He might be able to help?" declared Dean.

"Help how? Do what exactly?" queried Sam.

"I don't know Sammy," Dean said as he rose out of the chair "but we got squat. Nothing to go on and… Maybe he can help…" Dean started pacing the length of the library; Sam stood still.

On the third trip, down the length of the library, a small noised alerted the boys that someone was at the bunker's door. The boys made their way to the stairs, as Castiel appeared on the balcony.

Nobody spoke, undeterred by this Castiel slowly descended into the bunker. When he reached the bottom of the stairs Dean spoke, "Thanks for coming, Cass."

"You said you need my help. I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner." apologised Castiel. He looked from one brother to the other, but neither spoke, "Help… Needed… Here I am!" Castiel was not the one for small talk.

"We have a sister!" blurted Sam unable to contain, or was it avoid, the shocking truth they had learned only hours before.

"How do you know? Who…" Castiel hesitated; he was unable to finish his question, as Dean was all over his last comment, "You know!" observed Dean, his voice deepened as his anger grew, "You… Knew… And you said nothing?"

"Dean…" an exasperated Castiel tried to reason with Dean.

"Speak… Now!" commanded Dean, clearly not at his best. Castiel was struggling. He tried to explain, but could not, his voice cutting out; strangled mid first word.

Sam moved towards Castiel, he was alarmed and worried by what was happening to him, but Dean was having none of it. He thought Castiel was just trying to avoid his wrath; here was just another betrayal - how much could he take in one day.

"Cass, are you just doing to stand there and deny it?" seethed Dean. He looked murderous as he approached the angel; hands clenched looking for an outlet for the rage that was brewing up within him.

Sam stepped in between them, holding his brother back "Dean…" he thundered, shoving him away. He turned and quickly addressed Castiel, in the hope of answers, to quell Deans rising anger.

"Cass… Speak to me. Please tell me, did you know this?"

Castiel was still obviously struggling to string words together, not for want of trying; it was as if he was physically being restricted from speaking out. Dean made another move to come at him, but Sam shouldered him back again, a sharp look of pain crossed Sam's face as he did so.

Sam, wondering what was happening to Castiel, posed the question "Castiel is something stopping you from talking to us?"

Castiel's shoulders drooped as he stopped trying to speak, and simply nodded. Dean stopped mid-step.

Sam continued, "Why?" Castiel's eyes flared. Sam got the message, realising that if Castiel could not speak, he would not be able to answer that question. He tried again, "You can't tell us…" Castiel nodded, "because something is stopping you?" another nod, "someone… is stopping you?" This time Castiel's nod indicated 'no', Sam backtracked, "No! Some… Thing… Is stopping you?" Castiel was nodding again.

"Is it an angel thing?" More nodding.

"Well, that's just peachy!" Dean's sarcasm was sharp and cutting, as he turned to walk away; frustrated. Sam dropped his head, looking at the ground.

"Name…" Castiel muttered, Dean turned back to face him, Sam's head snapped back up, "Name?" Sam repeated, but Castiel could say no more, still fighting an invisible force.

"Name… Whose name?" Sam prompted, hopelessness rising in his voice.

"Her name?" Dean suggested, his voice softened by Castiel's struggle. Castiel was fighting hard, but the effort was clearly costing him; he was in quite some pain.

"But we don't know it…" admitted Sam. He was struggling to be so close to finding something out, but not knowing how to get there, "she didn't have one."

Castiel moved then – fast – he walked into the library, followed closely by the boys. He found a pen and paper on the side table and moved over to the table. Sitting down, he set about writing what he wanted, but this too was not possible. He started several times but never got past the first stroke of the pen. Finally, he stopped trying to explain and instead, he wrote one word…

Harry

"Harry? Are you saying her name was Harry?" Dean hissed, irritation rearing its ugly head in the tone of his voice. Castiel shook his head and again put pen to paper.

Olivia

"Olivia…" breathed Sam, but again Castiel shook his head and with Dean and Sam looking on, he wrote…

Penny

Neither boy spoke this time as Castiel continued to write…

Elizabeth

Castiel looked up then, his eyes pleading with the brothers to understand what he was trying to say. Sam just mumbled, "I don't get it!" a look of gloom crossing his face.

Dean was much more reserved, staring at the four names written on the piece of paper, one underneath each other…

Harry

Olivia

Penny

Elizabeth

"Hope" Dean whispered.

The change in Castiel was immediate, the struggle vanished; permission to speak seemingly granted, he said one word…

"Yes"


	4. Chapter 4

Scene 4

Castiel began, "Your mom…"

"Mary!" corrected both boys in unison; the brothers were still angry with Mary for keeping them in the dark about their sister.

"Are you going to let me tell the story, or not?" Castiel asked. Dean shrugged and gave a slight head nod, telling Castiel to continue.

 ** _Then – (narrated by Castiel)_**

Mary made a deal with the Demon.

This is not the deal, or, the Demon, you are thinking of.

Back then, when the news of the prophecy had become common knowledge in hell, many demons seeking their own position of power would have done anything to get involved; or ensure that that particular prophecy did not have a chance to come to fruition.

One such Demon made a play at a very young and very angry Mary.

Mary felt that her family were suffocating her and that she was condemned to live a life she hated. A bit like you, Sam, in the beginning with Dean.

Mary wanted out so bad she would do just about anything – give, just about anything - and ultimately she did.

The Demon, Petaya, came to Mary when she was at her lowest after a huge fight with her parents, where she had asked to leave them to go away to school, to have a life.

Petaya offered Mary the world, and eager to do anything to get out of her life, as well as knowing that this, beyond anything else, would destroy her parents, she went along with it.

Her request was simple, a way out, and a life of her own, away from her family.

Now, as you are aware and as Mary was soon to find out, nothing is free when dealing with Demons. In return for giving Mary what she wanted, Petaya said he wanted Mary's firstborn child.

Petaya, knowing the prophecy of the Winchester boys, understandingly thought that if he had the child or indeed if he had to destroy the child, the prophecy would never come true.

Mary, on the other hand, was of the belief that she would never have children, that she would never be a mother. How could she bring any child into the world; why would she want to. So, she agreed to the deal.

It seemed so simple.

She would get what she wanted and he would get nothing.

The problem, is that nothing ever works the way you think, and Mary was not very specific in her deal-making, ultimately her wording was the very reason why she ended up having to make good on her deal in the first place.

For in giving her a way out, the demon Petaya would be the one that forced the meeting of a young Mary and one John Winchester.

Now we all know how that went down and after another deal and a rushed wedding, Mary was finally out, though not as she wanted, but encased by her deal nonetheless.

To her credit, Mary did everything in her power to remain without a child, but John really wanted children and soon enough she was pregnant.

At first, she may have desperately sought a way out of her deal, thinking she could run; tell John the truth and take off, see how long they could last. However, fate had other plans as she found out she was expecting twins.

Now Mary was in a bad place. Her life was not going the way she had dreamed, and she did not want to run, so she thought, 'why not give one child to the Demon and keep the other' and with this thinking, she lied to John about how pregnant she was, hoping to make sure he would not be present when the babies were due.

She called on a friend, a hunter, from back in the day. He had saved her once before and now she hoped he would help her with the plan as best he could.

Mary had the children and on their first day in this world, she took the girl, wrapped in a plaid blanket, and dropped her in the place the Demon had demanded.

She then went back to the boy and waited for John.

Unbeknownst to her, John had grown curious of Mary's friend, thinking the two were up to no good. He was right, but it was nothing like he had thought. John found out about the babies and followed Mary that night, to see what she was doing.

When John saw Mary leave the child, he was distraught and disbelieving, that the woman he loved could do such a thing.

He went over, took the child from where it was, and ran.

Not sure what to do or where to go, he started praying. Two angels heard his prayer and appeared before him.

This was unusual, not the hearing of the prayer, but the answering of a prayer. For angels do not usually answer prayers in person.

John begged the angels to help - not knowing what else to do. The higher ranked angel left to find out more and returned with the story of Mary, Petaya and the twins.

John was outraged and extremely worried about the boy who was currently in Mary's care.

He asked the angels to take the girl, to protect her, hide her and make sure she never ended up in harm's way or with Petaya, as Mary had promised.

The higher ranked angel agreed to this and bound the child to the other angel making him, her guardian. He alone would help her and be bound to her in such a way, that he would know when or if she was ever in danger and he would come to help her.

Satisfied with this, John asked the other angel if he would help him get his boy from Mary so that he too could be safe.

The angel, however, would not agree to this saying instead, that John should return to Mary and continue his life.

John was outraged, he asked how he could possibly go back to that woman who had betrayed him, to pretend that all is okay and play happy families.

The angel said it was imperative that he do just that. That the boy must grow up in that family. That this was important…

 ** _Now_**

"That's bull!" blasted Dean, "As if our father knew that and went through with it…" Dean was not yelling yet, but he was close.

"No… That is just it. He did not know. The angel took his memories of that night when he realised John would not return and the prophecy may fall through. John returned home, with no memory of the event, to find out that Mary had given birth to a boy in his absence. Mary never had any idea that he had taken the child and that the Demon had gone without…" Castiel was concentrating hard on the table in front of him as he said this.

"What about the Demon?" asked Sam, "It would have come after Mary when she failed to live up to her end of the deal?"

"The two angels realised this too and set out to destroy it so that nothing would happen to the family in retribution." Castiel acknowledged.

"And that's it? John and Mary just go on living the life like nothing happened - the happy couple with the baby boy…" the bitterness was heavy in Dean's tone.

"Yes." Castiel replied his eyes still focused on the table.

"What about the girl? Hope?" Dean wanted to know.

"The guardian entrusted the girl to two hunters, a couple, who lived a few states over." Castiel continued, "They agreed to take the girl in and raise her while they could. The angel agreed that he would come if they called him, that he would find the girl a new place as needed. For 18 years, he did just that. Every time the hunters could not be there for Hope, he would return and find her a new hunter family who were willing to look after her."

"Little girl lost." Sam said to no one in particular.

"What?" asked Castiel.

"Little girl lost… It is a myth. A bedtime story that dad used to tell us when we were little. That most hunter parents told their children. About a girl whose parents were killed by the supernatural, but who was taken in by other hunters and raised as their own and when they could not look after her they would find a new home or another hunter who could. The moral is – 'family, don't do it alone' - and we're all one big hunting family that looks after each other…" Sam's eyes glazed over as he recalled the story, told to him many times by his father. Tears sprang to his eyes, as he realised that his father had been talking about his own little girl and had not even known it.

"So you knew all this and never said anything…" the accusation was strong in Dean's statement, which was directed at Castiel, "Because of what? Were all angels bound to some kind of secrecy to ensure that the Winchester tribe never knew the truth?"

"No." Castiel shared, "Only one angel was bound to secrecy. The Guardian. Unable to speak of the child, unless the person who wanted information knew the child's name."

First, shock, then eventually, understanding, rested on Dean's face, a second later, Sam came to the same conclusion; Castiel was the second angel, the one destined to keep Hope safe.

"I promised your father, that I would keep her safe, and that I would never betray her to anyone who didn't know her and have her interests at heart…" Castiel was deflating in front of the boys, "but I failed him…"

Dean was shaking his head in disbelief; Castiel was saying that he had failed to keep her safe.

"Castiel?" Sam began, worry and desperate sadness the mixed emotions on his face and in his voice, "Cass. No. What? You failed…" Sam had just made the connection; Castiel thinks Hope is dead.

"Not long after your 18th birthday…" as Castiel spoke, he was looking at Dean, who was still shaking his head not wanting to hear this… "I knew that Hope's foster parents were in trouble and I came down to them, but I was too late… Desperate to make sure Hope was okay, I set out looking for her - but I could not find her."

Dean stopped shaking his head and noted, "You couldn't find her? Not, you found her dead too. You… couldn't find her…" His voice was strained; clearly, he wanted to believe her alive, not what Castiel was suggesting.

"Dean. I could not find her. I… Angel… Bound specifically to her. The only reason, the only way, that that could be… Was if… Is that… She was…" Castiel did not, could not, finish that sentence.

Dean was moving toward him now, a hopeful look on his face. "You couldn't find her. There are other reasons for that… You can't find us…" he reasoned, pointing at Sam and himself, as he made his way up to Castiel, "you made that happen, no angels can find us!"

"Dean. I did not do that to her. She is not warded or shielded."

"Then someone else did. You couldn't find her, that doesn't mean she is…" Dean faltered on the last word, as he rushed at Castiel.

Castiel's arms went up to Dean's chest, holding him at arm's length. "Dean!" he implored, "she is gone. I couldn't find her."

Dean's hands came up in between Castiel's arms; with great force, he broke Castiel's hold on his shirt, flinging his arms away from him, then, just as quick, Dean pummelled Castiel squarely in the chest with both hands, to send him flying back across the room. When Castiel hit the floor, Dean roared, "She is not dead!"


	5. Chapter 5

Scene 5

After dragging Dean away from Castiel, Sam had him pinned against a pillar in the library.

"She is not dead…" Dean yelled again, struggling against Sam's grip.

"How can you be so sure?" beseeched Sam.

"I can feel her!" Dean admitted.

In Sam's shock, Dean managed to push him off. Deflated now, Dean whispered, "I can feel her…"

There was only silence, occasionally marked with heavy breaths from either of the boy's.

"You can feel her?" Sam raised his eyebrows, in a questioning manner, at Dean.

"Yes…" conceded Dean, "I have always felt her. I have always known. It was stronger when I was young, but even now when I sit and really try to reach out, I can feel her."

"What! Like a twin thing?" exclaimed Sam.

"I don't know Sammy." Dean sighed, "I just can…"

"But, you never said anything…" Sam pointed out.

"Yeah, well I learnt that lesson early…" Sam's expression showed that he had no idea what Dean was talking about, and his shrug indicated that Dean should continue with an explanation.

"About a month before… Mary died… We were in your room. She had just put you down for a nap and was walking out of the room. I was in front of her and asked - where is my sister? Her eyes widened in shock and - I did not know - whether she was scared or angry… but then, she hit me. She hit me so hard I smashed into the wall, my head split open, and she… She walked away…" Dean was close to tears.

As Dean spoke, he had lifted his hand up to his head and he was rubbing his temple as if to take away the pain of the small four-year-old boy. Dean moved his hand slowly down his face, wiping his eyes dry, before looking over at Sam and continuing, "That night, at dinner, dad asked what was wrong with my face and she told him that I had been running and tripped down the stairs from the landing. I looked at her man, begging her to tell the truth, but she didn't look at me and then…"

Dean sighed, turning away from Sam as he finished, "dad scolded me for being careless and running in the house. He scolded me for her lie and she… she did not care. I learnt then, not to ask about my sister. Over time, I decided it was not real, like an imaginary friend or something, but I never forgot. I might not have said anything… But I never forgot."


	6. Chapter 6

Scene 6

"Cass? Is there anything, anything at all you can do to help us?" Dean was calmer now as he stood near Castiel, begging him for help. Sam watched on carefully.

"Dean…" caution heavy in Castiel's voice as he spoke. Castiel tried to maintain eye contact with Dean, but the piercing sadness of Dean's eyes made it impossible, as Castiel eventually had to look away from Dean, as he shook his head slowly.

"Cass… Anything… We got squat. We need something, anything you can do. Not Guardian you. Angel you. Friend you. Anything…" Sam keenly felt the desperation in Dean's voice and it echoed on his face

"I could ask the other angels if they know…" relented Castiel.

"Thanks…" Dean said as Castiel started to walk out of the library. Suddenly, Dean ran to stop him, as he thought of another question. Now standing in front of Castiel, Dean asked, "Cass? Do you know the names of the hunters that looked after her, raised her? I mean…" Dean looked over at Sam as he spoke, "they're family right? And people keep in touch with family… so there's a chance."

Maybe Dean was clutching at straws, but they had to do something. Castiel nodded and turned back to the table where he once again picked up pen and paper and started writing names and places down.

No one said anything while Castiel wrote. When he was finished, he rose and made for the stairs, at this point there was little to say.

With Castiel halfway up the stairs, Dean stated again, "Thanks, Cass…"

Castiel merely tilted his head, in the direction of the boys and advised, "I'll be in touch."

Castiel opened the door to the bunker, as Dean thought of yet another question; he blurted out, "Cass wait…" Castiel stopped, turned and leaning over the balcony looked down at Dean, a questioning look on his face.

"Where was she at… the last time? Where was she last?"

Castiel, without even needing to think about it replied, "Hope Falls, New York."

Dean scoffed, shaking his head, mouth open, "Now that's not ironic at all."


	7. Chapter 7

Scene 7

"You want to do what?" queried Dean.

"Dean…" Sam snapped back, "I know you heard me…"

"Yes, I did. I just want to hear you say it again." Dean laughed, as he stared at Sam.

"No." Sam fumed.

Dean just kept staring, and waiting; after an uncomfortable silence, Sam caved, "A locator spell…"

"You…" Dean said, pointing a finger at Sam, "Want to use magic, to find our sister. Seriously, Sammy? We don't even know a witch. Not one that will help us anyways…"

"Dean, we don't need a witch. Just a few bits and pieces and a spell."

"You have a spell?" the surprise in Dean's voice was unmistakable.

"Dean…" exasperated tone notwithstanding, Sam was happy that Dean seemed so interested; he had hardly moved over the last two days since Castiel had left. Barely eaten. Barely spoken. At last, he seemed to be breaking out of the depression and that made Sam happy, even if he was taking the piss.

"Yes, I have a spell." Sam confessed.

"Where did you get it?" quizzed Dean.

"Does that matter? Does it really matter?" Sam was protesting Dean's incessant line of questioning.

"Yes…" Dean snorted; he was struggling to understand Sam's desire to take part in magic.

"Dean…" laboured Sam.

"Come on… You expect us to use magic. Magic! And you won't even tell me where the spell came from?"

"Come off it Dean. It's not that much different to doing séances or summoning a Demon and you've done both of those, plenty of times…" Sam could not believe Dean's reluctance. They had absolutely nothing to go on. No leads and there was something that might have half a chance; 'what was wrong with him?' thought Sam.

"Sammy… This is magic, and magic bites. How many times do we have to go through bad stuff before you're going to realise that."

"It's… a… locator… spell…" Sam said, practically spelling it out for Dean, in exaggerated slow motion.

"So then… Where did the spell from?" Now it was Dean's turn, mimicking Sam's slow drawl.

"Well if you must know, it was Rowena's." Sam admitted; Dean nearly choked on his next words, "Rowena! Why the hell would she give you a locator spell?"

Closing his eyes, Sam sighed, "She… didn't. I stole her grimoire. I hate her, so I stole it… Now, are we going to do this, or what?" Sam punctuated each statement with another sigh, gritted teeth or raised eyebrows.

"Tell me how it works…" Dean yielded.

In essence, the boys would set up a map, mix a few ingredients, chant some magical incantation, and then place the ingredients in a special oil. The oil would then be scattered over the map at the end of the spell. If everything went well, the oil was supposed to move, marking the spot on the map where they would find what they were looking for.

The boys were in the dungeon; for some reason, Dean thought that this was the best place to do some magic. Candles were set up around the large map to represent the four elements. Sam was finishing up with the ingredients, while Dean was reading the spell.

"It says we need something of hers." Dean commented.

"Yeah, so?" was Sam's flippant reply.

"Yeah so? We don't have anything of hers…" Dean sounded like he was pointing out the obvious, "We've never even met her?"

Sam looked down at his brother, who was sitting on the floor, "Dean. We have you! If she feels you, like you feel her, then you… are a part of her; something of hers."

Dean's furrowed brow showed he was mulling this over; he had not thought of it like that, but he could understand where Sam was coming from. Still… Dean did not want to invest too much in this, given that he felt it was not going to work anyway.

Sam sat down opposite Dean, the map, ingredients and spell bowl sitting between them. "You ready?" he asked Dean, who nodded yes. The brothers started the spell. Each one reading their part or chanting certain sections together, occasionally the candles would flicker. Whether it was the magic of the drought in the dungeon, Dean was not sure.

At the final words 'deliver us to our sister', Sam splashed some of the oil on the map and…

Nothing…

Happened…


	8. Chapter 8

Scene 8

Dean was already on his feet, making his way out of the dungeon. He did not want Sam to see just how disappointed he was, that the spell had not worked.

"Wait… Dean! Just wait." cried Sam, who was scrambling to catch up to his brother.

"For what? Sammy, it did not work! Now we try something else." Dean said over his shoulder as he continued walking out of the dungeon.

"Dean… Wait!" Sam finally caught up with Dean and grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around.

"Dean I…" Sam began, before stopping quickly as he saw fresh tears in Dean's eyes. Dean busily brushed them away as Sam continued, "Maybe we did it wrong?"

"Seemed fine to me." Dean lied.

"Then we asked wrong… She was shielded… right? At least, that is what we are thinking…" Sam was getting excited now; he felt he was on to something, "Of course it wouldn't work… I mean - an angel, or something like that, is shielding her – Right? We can't ask to find her, because, she can't be found…"

Dean looked somewhat intrigued by Sam's line of thought, perking up he asked, "What do we ask for then?"

"Someone who can point is in the right direction…" reasoned Sam.

The boys started the spell again. They had same parts as before, but this time they asked for the location of somebody who could help them; somebody who knew something that would allow them, to find their sister. To find Hope.

This time, at the end of the spell, all of the candles glowed a bright emerald green and the oil, which Sam splashed on the map, immediately began to move and finally settled at one destination.

Dean leaned forward over the map and upon reading the name of the location, exclaimed "No way!"

Intrigued, Sam too leaned forward to read the name. Instantly, he understood Dean's response. A look of disbelief that mirrored the look on Dean's face lit up Sam's face. For at that point, on the map, was a tiny little town in Arkansas, called, 'Hope'…


	9. Chapter 9

Scene 9

There were eight other people in the diner, including Dean, who was just sitting there, coffee in hand, staring out the window at the miserable day that was, in Hope Creek.

A paper landed on the table in front of him, Dean scanned the title 'Local man found dead'. Without looking up at Sam, he asked, "Does this have something to do with our sister?"

The brothers had arrived two days ago but so far, nothing had happened and they had not found anything that was pointing them in the direction of finding Hope.

"Well… No… But, it is a case. His blood was all gone."

"You want us to work a case?" Just how crappy Dean thought that was, was evident in the tone of his voice.

"Dean, come on… This is what we do." Sam pointed out.

"We are looking for our sister!" growled Dean.

"Yes… and we've got nothing. Meanwhile, people are dying here!" stressed Sam.

"People… That's one person." Dean said, pointing at the front page of the newspaper.

"No. That is the second, in as many days. The other one was a truck driver, just passing through."

Dean sat, unimpressed or unmoved, at the plight of the locals.

"Come on Dean. This is what we do. All along. Through everything, we have faced. Azazel, the Leviathan, the Mark, Lucifer… We have always continued to do what we do, no matter how much the world was pulling us down. Always…" Sam was practically pleading with him now. "What else have we got to do? We are here, and we will stay here looking for a sign. In the meantime, we help the town out and maybe, in our travels, we will find a clue to help find Hope."

Sam was not sure what Dean was thinking. He was just sitting there. Then suddenly, without any warning, he rose dropped some money on the table and said "Fine. Let's do this…"


	10. Chapter 10

Scene 10

Dean killed the engine to the Impala, "You thinking vampires?" he asked of Sam.

"Don't know. Maybe. The paper did say that all their blood had been drained." Sam reported.

"All right. How do you want to play this?" Dean asked as he hopped out of the car.

Moments later the boys were inside the morgue, FBI badges ready, but they need not have bothered, the place was deserted.

Walking down a poorly lit corridor, Sam opened the door to the cold storage room. Just inside the door was a coat rack with one lab coat on it, a name badge reading J. Schmidt. Dean touched it, as he walked past, on his way over to the freezers.

Dean walked down the wall of freezers, reading off names as he went. Finally, at the fourth freezer along he came to a stop and cried, 'Bingo!' he then ceremoniously opened the door and slid the tray out.

Sam was on the other side of the tray, as he pulled the white sheet back, "Dude…" it sounded a lot like ewe, "I was not… expecting that…" declared Dean. The look on Sam's face; showed that he agreed totally.

Dean poked the body, "It's like stone, but it still looks human. And what's with that face?" The body's face was contorted - disfigured even, as the jaw had unhinged, making it look frozen in a pose of extreme fear.

"I guess vampires are off the table?" Sam ruled.

"You think!" was Dean's quick-witted reply.

"The stone man… Like Medusa?" Dean was merely thinking aloud now, trying to reason away what he was seeing before him.

"You think a mystical creature, looked at him and he what… turned to stone…" Sam scoffed at Dean's bizarre notion.

"Come on Sammy, have we, or have we not, seen some truly weird stuff in our time?" Dean countered.

Sam shook his head, not fully believing Dean's new direction, but he had no plausible idea of his own.

Just then, a door opened in the distance and footsteps started approaching the boys. Sam pulled the sheet back over the dead dude, while Dean shoved the tray roughly, back into the freezer, and with a flick of his wrist the door was…

Two men came through the door to the room and surprise rang across their faces, as they saw Dean and Sam, sitting, idly, at the desk.

"Can I help you?"

"Who let you in here? This is a restricted area..." The two men spoke at the same time, the first question from the sheriff and the second from the man in the lab coat, presumably the medical examiner.

"Jimmy told us to meet him here." Dean said, taking a punt on what the J on the lab-coat stood for. He stood up and moved towards the two men.

"You mean, Johnny?" The medical examiner asked, looking up at Dean through his small eyeglasses.

"Not sure… Had a bad connection… Sounded like Jimmy… Agent Spade" Dean said, finally flashing his badge at the two men, "Darke" he said, motioning to Sam, while putting his badge away.

"We were informed of a conspiracy involving two murders, and asked to come over and lend a hand in an investigation, by… one…" Dean flipped open a notebook, he had pulled out of his pocket, "Deputy Schmidt."

"Dammit John. I have told you time and again to put a leash on that lad." This was the sheriff talking to the man in the coat. The sheriff turned to Dean, apologising, "Agent, I'm sorry. There would appear to be a mix-up. The man who called you is no more than a janitor for the morgue. He definitely is not a deputy and had no jurisdiction to call you in."

"So… No conspiracy then?" asked Sam, trying to look slightly annoyed at the inconvenience of the situation.

"No, no, no, no. Nothing like that… Two unusual deaths, yes, but no conspiracy." the sheriff replied.

"So, you don't need our help?" asked Dean not really sure he wanted out that easily. This was definitely something right up their alley, even if he had no idea how so.

"Well… I certainly would not turn you away, if you were willing to help. I am short-staffed as it is, and hard at it, and in all honesty… I have absolutely no idea what I have on my hands!" declared the sheriff.

A broad smile flashed across Dean's face as he said, "Happy to help."


	11. Chapter 11

Scene 11

"Dean, you got anything?" Sam was looking inquisitively at Dean, who clearly had not heard Sam speak; he was busy at work on a laptop, which sat in front of him.

Holed up in the conference room of the sheriff's place, the boys were pouring over anything they could get their hands on.

Sam, who was annoyed that Dean was not responding, balled up a piece of paper from the notebook in front of him and threw it at Dean's head, hitting him square in the face with some force.

"Jerk!" Dean said looking up at his brother, "Bitch…" came the usual reply from Sam.

"Have you got anything?" Sam repeated his original question.

"No." Dean noted.

"What are you even looking up?" questioned Sam.

"Stuff…" barked Dean.

"Dean?" Sam scolded, his tone indicating to Dean that he was not in the mood.

"Fine… I was looking up Hope…" Sam screwed up his face, annoyed that Dean was not focussing on the case at hand. Dean, in response to the condescending look, groaned, "Oh come on man… when was the last time we were handed police records with a complete 'knock yourself out boys..." the look on Dean's face was one of absolute innocence, as he added, "He is practically begging us to fish around…"

"And?" Sam fumed,

"And what?" Dean retorted.

"Did you find anything?" Sam asked through clenched teeth.

After a heavy sigh and with downcast eyes, Dean admitted he had not found a single thing. He had looked up Hope, girls around the right age of Hope, the names of the Hunters that Castiel had given them, but out of all of that – there was nothing.

At the end of Dean's story, the sheriff popped his head around the door to see if the boys wanted a key, so they could let themselves out. During all that research, with the boys not getting anywhere, they had not realised how late it was.

"No, sir. We are just about done here. In fact…" Sam added, rising up out of the chair and closing the loaned laptop in front of him, "We'll walk you out."


	12. Chapter 12

Scene 12

Belch…

The noise that emanated from Dean's mouth was epic, "Dude…" Sam said screwing his face up at the sound, and the stench, "that's disgusting!"

Sam was trying to haul Dean into the Impala, something that should have been easy, if not for Dean's drunken state. After such a fruitless afternoon researching and still no sign of Hope – Dean had taken to the bottle hard, to drown his sorrows.

As Sam opened the back door to the car, Dean stumbled hitting his head on the roof, "ow" a long-winded moan. Finally, Sam had him on the back seat; he was out cold, only faint sounds of snoring coming from the other side of the car.

Sam slammed the door and made his way around to the driver's side when…

"How anybody would believe you two to be FBI agents is beyond me!"

The statement came from an older man, who was rolling across the road in a wheelchair.

"Excuse me?" questioned Sam.

"FBI agents..." the old man scoffed, "Why you two, are no more FBI agents than I am the Prime Minister of Australia on holiday to this godforsaken, backward walking, hell hole." The man continued speaking; still rolling slowly across the road. "Bad enough you two losers being here… Let alone you are driving John Winchester's old car."

The man was on the other side of the road now and Sam having heard his father's name jogged across to him asking, "You knew John Winchester?"

"Yep. That is his car you are driving. Geez. Judging by your presence here, I'm going to say it was some 30 years ago that I met John."

Sam was doing some quick thinking; Dean would have been eight or so back then. Dad would have been hunting in those days, so anybody who knew him had to be in the business himself. Then, there was the whole thirty-year comment… Sam hazarded a guess, "You are a hunter?"

"Well, I was… Before I lost my leg and all that." The man was looking down at his missing leg, a sad look on his face, as he spoke, "Not being able to run away from the devil, makes hunting a teensy-weensy bit difficult nowadays…"

"You hunted with John?"

"Just that once. Same thing you're hunting now I'd say…" Sam swallowed hard, at the man's comment; he never knew when it was okay to talk about the things he and Dean did on a daily basis.

"Never did catch that thing! Had no idea what it was then, still don't. Had heard nothing like it back then… or since, a one-off freak of nature," the man paused, reflecting on the past, "course it had already got three before John blew into town. Took the other two before we knew what was what, and then it was all over… for another thirty years… John blew back out again, but I stayed on… Never could shake that case…" The man's eyes had changed, obviously remembering something terrible.

"It was all over?" Sam asked, still not really piecing together what this man was saying.

"Well yeah… It got the five. That was what it did. We found the history, that part was easy. Every thirty years for the past ninety or so, five dead, turned to stone like, and then a sixth, goes missing, no body, no anything. Must hole up and hibernate or something…" The man's voice trailed off again, remembering.

"There is history? My brother and I spent a whole day looking, and came up empty." Sam was curious as to how he and Dean could have missed the history.

"Not surprising really. John and I got our information from the papers and talking to the locals. Then, fifteen years or so ago, a new mayor swept in; digitised everything. She did not like the 'stone man' story and did not want it to kill off potential tourists, so she buried it, and it never became part of the digital world. Potential tourism…" he scoffed again, "as if any self-respecting tourists would be caught in this pathetic, good for…"

"Do you still have the stories?" Sam interjected, not wanting to listen to the man go on about the town again.

"Course. Like I said, never could let that one go. I will dig em up if you think it will help you any. You staying at the Duray?"

"Yeah," replied Sam, "room 314."

"Well… I will bring em round first thing on the morrow. Say, how is it you ended up with John's car?" the man asked.

"He was our dad. I'm Sam and Dean's…" Sam's voice trailed off, as his eyes glanced over at the Impala. "Working up an epic bag of regret, on the back seat of the Impala?" finished the old man.

"Yeah" Sam agreed.

"Well, I knew John had two boys, it's why he blew out so fast. To get back to them. You could tell he really loved them boys…" Sam did not know what to say, so he just stood there.

"Well, I'll be round in the morning with the files." The man said, starting to push off down the street.

"Oh wait. I'm sorry…" Sam finally coming to some sort of sense, asked, "I, ah… didn't ask your name."

"Pete." the old man said over his shoulder, as he picked up speed, rolling downhill.

Sam stood there a minute looking around himself, thinking of the encounter he had just had. He shook his head, a small smile making its way to his lips, and then he walked over to the Impala, opened the front door and got in.


	13. Chapter 13

Scene 13

Sam struggled to open the door to the motel room holding two cups of coffee and a paper bag, containing a bagel for Dean.

Having risen early and taken himself out for an egg white omelette, the healthy son had returned to bring Dean some much-needed hangover food.

As he came in through the door, Sam could hear the shower in the bathroom, and glancing over he saw that the second bed was empty. Sam continued over to the table and threw down the keys to the room.

At that same instant, he heard the most horrific scream. Sam spun around and flew back out the door scanning the motel's car park. He noticed an open door, to his right and he took off for it. Outside the room, Sam had to sidestep to avoid colliding with a cleaning trolley. Without any hesitation and not carrying a weapon of any sort, he burst in through the open door.

Inside was a mirror image of his and Dean's room. To his left stood the now crying girl who had screamed, she was still staring at the bed. Sam turned quickly to take in what she was looking at.

On the bed was the body of the third victim, Sam could tell just from the look on his face. Sam grabbed the girl and led her outside to safety. He then re-entered the room to make sure that the killer was not still there. The room itself was clear, so he made his way back to the bathroom.

Sam did not have a gun, but he went into the bathroom anyway. Checking in the shower and around the back of the door. Nothing; he made his way back out.

"Dammit, Sammy!" Dean fumed, quickly lowering his gun to ensure that Sam was not in the firing line. Dean's hair was dripping wet, his clothing haphazard, as he stood in the doorway to the room.

"Call 911…" he said suddenly, his head turned towards the approaching footsteps of the person that Sam could not see from inside the room. "Another one! Right under our noses!" Dean bristled, bringing his head back towards the room, directing the statement at Sam as he entered the room.

"Yeah, that's three. Only two more Dean… We have got to work this out before…"

"Woah… woah, woah… two more? What are you talking about? Two more… when exactly, did this become a numbers game, Sammy?" confusion was evident, not only in Dean's voice but also plastered across his face.

In the excitement of the morning's events, Sam had forgotten that Dean had been unconscious, in the car, during his and Pete's conversation. Just as he was about to explain to Dean, a siren could be heard approaching, fast. "To be continued…" Dean stipulated as he tucked the gun away, in the small of his back.

Next minute, the sheriff appeared at the door followed closely by someone, who may have been the deputy.

"Agents?" the sheriff was clearly surprised that the boys were already at the crime scene, "How did you get here…" he did not finish the question just left it hanging there.

Sam nodded, at the open door across the car park and stated, "We are staying here, heard a scream and… second nature took over."

The sheriff relaxed at hearing this, and proceeded to take in the room. Shaking his head, he said "Another one!"


	14. Chapter 14

Scene 14

"Well… we will give your people some time to process the scene… We have to check back, in with our lot, anyway. So how about we say… three-ish… for a briefing?" Sam asked the sheriff, who was standing in the open doorway of his cruiser.

"Yep yep. Sounds like a plan. I will be getting back at…" the sheriff paused, staring at Sam who was, in turn, craning his neck in a weird manner, "Everything all right there agent?" He asked concern in his tone.

Sam, who had just been motioning to Pete to get inside, quickly stretched his arm up grabbing at the back of his neck, showing some discomfort on his face and covered with, "Yeah, I am fine, it is just that motel bed, and you know how that is?"

"Sure do… Sure do. Well, I will see you two in a bit." The sheriff said as he walked back into the scene.

"What the hell was that?" Dean quizzed Sam, as they walked back over to their room.

"Just telling Pete to get inside." Sam replied.

"Who the hell is Pete?" Dean asked as he stepped into their motel room.

"That would be me…" came the reply from the older man, in the wheelchair. Pete was sitting at the small table, where Sam had earlier thrown his keys, a folder of clippings open in front of him.

Dean quickly reached for his gun, but Sam shut him down, "Easy Dean! Easy, he is a friend…" cried Sam, before continuing, "Dean this is…"

"Pete?" it was the sheriff's voice, "Pete Montana? What are you doing here?" the Sheriff, was standing in the open doorway, having followed the boys back over to their room.

"Sheriff…" said Pete nodding his head in the direction of the sheriff.

"Sheriff, you know Mr Montana?" Sam asked as he spun around to face the sheriff, "Mr Montana came up to us yesterday; he said he might have some information about the case so we agreed to meet him here this morning." Sam paused, then asked, sounding very official as he did so, "Was there something else we could help you with, Sheriff?"

"Oh. Yes, sir. Just wanted to say 4 pm would be a better time. I have a couple of other things to take care of before then." advised the sheriff.

"No worries, four is fine with us. With a bit of luck, we might even have some new information by then." Sam replied looking over his shoulder at Pete and then back to the sheriff.

The sheriff got the hint and made a quick exit; Sam walked over and shut the door behind him.

"Geez. That guy really believes that you two bozos are actually the FBI."

"Yeah, well…" said Dean, a smile breaking across his face, "We scrub up nice!"


	15. Chapter 15

Scene 15

"So Montana? As in… Monty?" Dean raised his eyebrows in question, as he stared at Pete.

"Well now, haven't heard that name in some time. Of course, your daddy was the only SOB that ever called me that!" was Pete's surly reply.

"Yeah. I remember him when he came back from this one. One of a handful of jobs he would not say anything about… He just said 'some things, son, you are just…'

"Better off not trying to forget while falling asleep…" echoed Pete, as Dean finished his sentence.

Dean walked over and shook Pete's hand saying, "Well it's an honour to meet you. My dad said you were a fine Hunter and friend. Now… Sammy," he turned to Sam as he finished, "you had better catch me up on this."

Sam and Pete retold the stories, and then all three of them poured over the files that Pete had brought with him, hoping to find anything that might point them in the right direction – before it was too late.

Time passed, each man trying to read, or reread, the different pieces of the file. As they finished each section, they passed it on to someone else, before picking up another piece.

There were newspaper clippings about each murder and a few clippings on the missing people. Some of the pieces on the missing people dated a few years after the original case – as the newspaper picked up the cold case; rehashing the story to see if new leads might come out of it.

There were also many handwritten notes, some of which the boys recognised as their dad's handwriting. Overall, there was a lot of information in the file, but nothing that gave them a direction now.

Eventually, Pete said his goodbyes; he had to get home for lunch with the Mrs. 'Would the boys like to catch up for a drink later at The Manor?' 'Absolutely!' After he had gone, the boys kept on researching.

It was pushing on two when Dean, frustrated with such lack of direction, stood up suddenly, his chair knocking over, and stomped across a room. Sam just watched him, neither boy saying a word. Dean lay down on the bed and pulled his feet up - he just lay there looking at the ceiling, and Sam turned back to his computer and kept typing away.

About half an hour later, Dean's cell phone rang and he rolled over on the bed to reach for it, "Hello" there was a pause "Sheriff? Hello, do you have something?" More silence "No. No, that is okay. I know what you mean; crime scene analysis takes time. Yes… Yes… it is truly not a problem." Dean was obviously talking over the sheriff. He rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling, as he listened, twisting his hand as if to say, wrap it up already, "Yes, yes… Ah ha…" He occasionally mumbled and then…

"Say what? I mean, could you repeat that?" Dean sat up on the bed, as he spoke, and now he was listening intently, recognition, concern, and some confusion, registering on his face.

Suddenly he was on his feet and making his way across to the table - while he listened - he started rifling through the papers from the file. After a few more seconds, he said thanks to the sheriff and hung up, and at almost exactly the same time, he found the piece of paper he was looking for.

It was an old police report from the fourth murder, thirty years ago.

"Dammit…" Dean turned, running over to the bed, where he had hidden his gun under the pillow. As he ran, he announced, "Sammy, it is the people who found them… The next one to die is always the last one to find the body…" Dean had his gun now and was rushing for the door. As he flung it open, his final comment cut through to Sam, "It is coming after the girl…"

Sam reached for his gun – hidden under the cushion on the low couch by the door – and ran for the open door when Sam got outside he saw Dean running towards the manager's office; Sam took off in the other direction looking for the cleaning carts. He knew there were two shifts for the cleaning crew and Sam thought if he found the cleaning cart, then maybe he would find the girl in one of the rooms.

Dean, meanwhile, had made it to the manager's office and was ringing the bell like a lunatic. The manager lazily walked out to the front desk, "Help you?" he inquired, irritation brewing in his voice, as he looked Dean over.

"The cleaner… from this morning… the girl who found the dead guy, where is she? Where does she live?" Dean was not yelling, but there was a very commanding element in his voice.

"Now, listen here son, I can't be giving out her details…" Before the manager even finished the sentence, Dean grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and pulled him hard and fast down on the counter; he held him there by his collar.

"I don't have time for this! Now… Tell me where she is before I do something I will regret…" Dean's voice was extremely low and deep, as he laid the gun down on the counter, right in the manager's line of sight.

"Room 250!" the manager yelled, his eyes wide. "Thank you…" Dean said in a gruff voice as he released the manager, "and I'm not your son!" he bellowed, over his shoulder, as he took off out the door. Once outside, Dean saw Sam in the distance, he let out a piercing whistle and as Sam turned, Dean motioned for him to follow.

Dean took off fast then, to his left and in quick time he was at room 250; he knocked the door in, his gun ready, to find…

The girl was just standing there, her back to Dean, about a metre from the bathroom door. "Hey lady? You all right? I am FBI; I have reason to believe you are in danger. That someone is after you." Dean was speaking softly as he walked towards the girl, his gun still raised, not sure what to expect; the girl just stood there.

"Hey, lady?" Dean spoke again, this time she turned slowly to face Dean. He quickly lowered the gun, trying not to spook her. Dean looked closely at the girl; her face was blank – there was no emotion or any indication that she had heard Dean, or even knew that Dean was in the room.

Dean was watching her carefully and when it registered with him, that she did not seem to be in control of her body - he started to raise his gun, only to find that he could not.

Panic spread through him.

His mind went into overdrive with fear.

Dean could not move.

He wanted to scream, to run, to warn Sam, but he could not move. To a bystander all they would have seen was a man standing still, just standing there watching a girl, only his eyes displayed the fear that he was feeling, but even they were not really moving.

As he stood there, fear eating away at him, Dean saw the girl's mouth start to open. No… Dean realised – something on the inside was prying it open. Giant, long, blue insect legs started to emerge from her mouth. Only they were not from any insect that Dean knew of.

If it had been possible, Dean's eyes would have widened even further in fright and panic - he could feel his heart beating wildly, and he wondered if he might be having a heart attack; if so, would that kill him before this thing got to him? Please let that happen – his mind begged.

Dean realised he had been wrong; this thing did not hunt down the person who found the victim. It had already taken them, as the previous person was dying.

Just as Dean had this thought, there was a loud snap as the girl's jaw broke! The thing, whatever it was, was half out now and Dean could tell it was trying to get out, to come for him.

Dean tried to move repeatedly, he wanted to scream or even just close his eyes, so he did not have to see it coming for him.

It was nearly a foot in length now and it seemed to be struggling to free itself completely. Dean was terrified, unable to do anything but stare when all of a sudden…

It exploded.

As did the girl's face.

Confusion clouded Dean's mind, before he fell to the ground, unconscious, and suddenly released by the creature's powers.

"Dean? Dean?" Sam lowered his gun, as he ran to Dean's side. He kneeled beside Dean, patting him on the face and repeating his name. Eventually, Dean groaned, as a relieved Sam rejoiced, "Oh, thank God you are ok, Dean."

"I couldn't move Sam!" Dean's voice was ragged as he tried to explain to Sam what had happened, "That thing… I… couldn't move…" Dean was trying to stand up as he spoke, but he was clearly struggling, "Is it dead?" he finally asked Sam.

"Yes, I think so… Whatever it was, it was not strong enough to withstand a bullet." Sam was holding onto Dean, helping him to get to his feet.

"Well… I for one don't want to hang around here." Dean announced as he tried to turn and make his way to the door. He collapsed again, from the effort this took, and Sam grabbed him before he fell to the floor. Together they made their way over to the door, where Sam asked, "What do you want to do about this?" motioning to the mess that was now scattered all over the floor.

"Shut the door Sammy!" came Dean's reply.

"Shut the door?" Sam asked

"Yeah. Shut the door"


	16. Chapter 16

Scene 16

"So… It was some sort of insect?"

The boys were sitting in a booth, at The Manor, with Pete. He was trying to understand the story the brothers had just told him. "I mean, seriously, a giant bug?" he asked again, clearly amazed at what had transpired.

"Yes, well it had six legs… and it just crawled out of her mouth – while she stood there. I am fairly sure she was dead the minute 'it' got in her, from the third victim." This was Sam, answering Pete's many questions. Dean sat silently, still a bit shell-shocked by the, 'near death by bug' experience.

"It had black blood!" Sam added, as an afterthought.

"You think it was demonic?" mused Pete, after taking a swig on his beer.

"I will tell you one thing for sure…" Dean started in a low voice, "that thing was not native to planet Earth. It might have managed to crawl its way out of hell, survive a while topside, but I for one… am glad Sam destroyed its butt."

Pete was nodding as he added, "I am sure glad you boys decided to come back here and to finish up one of your daddy's cases!"

Dean and Sam looked at each other; sure, the boys had finished the case, mostly a fluke, but that was not why they were here and neither had forgotten it.

"Well… Pete… Much as we would like the credit on this one. We did not actually come here for this case." Sam started, trying to set the record straight…

"Good Lord! There is another case here in town that I do not know about?" Pete was looking and sounding stressed now.

"No… God no!" calmed Dean, "it is not a case. We were here looking for a girl; she is family. We had reason to believe we could find some information here, about her whereabouts."

"You… are looking for the girl too? I can't believe it." neither could Sam and Dean, judging by the look that they had just given each other and the one they were giving Pete right now. "I mean… Of course, you two and the 'Hunter saviour' are relatives. It makes so much sense! I cannot believe I never thought about that before… It is so obvious. Why, didn't you say anything? Hmm?" Pete was rambling away, as the thoughts and questions popped into his head.

"Hey… Slow down," Dean interrupted, "we have no idea what you are talking about? We are looking for a girl called Hope. We do not know any 'Hunter Saviour'. What are you on about?"

Pete took a long swig of his beer before starting, "About five years ago I was hunting a group of vampires. I thought there was four, turns out, I was wrong… there was actually five. The last one was upset, that I had killed four of his friends. Anyway, he had me, dead to rights. He had taken my knife, carved up my leg - well you know the rest of that story – and there he was standing over me gloating about killing me… telling me to enjoy hell… Here I was, on the ground, slowly dying, and just as he swung his arm up for the final chop at my throat, he dropped to his knees. As he fell forward, his head fell off…" Dean and Sam both sat back, stunned at this turn of events, as Pete continued, "now I was nearly out of it, but I know what I saw… Behind where the vampire had stood, was a girl? She had long brown hair and she was holding a beautiful silver sword. I passed out then, but I woke up and I was in the hospital. I know she saved me… Twice… and I've been looking for her ever since."

There was silence at the table as Pete finished his story, but the music and the general noise of the bar filled the void.

Finally, Sam said, "Wow… Some story." he was not trying to be sarcastic, but it did come out that way.

Pete automatically went on the defensive, "I know what you are thinking. But seriously… the vampire had me, I should be dead. But… I am not. How do you explain that?"

Dean started to speak, but Pete drowned him out "No… No… there is nothing you can say that I have not said to myself, or, that some other Hunter has not said to me. See, I have been telling that story ever since… to anyone who would listen and sure, sometimes… I even think the loony bin is looking good right now, but for this…"

Pete took a notebook out, from the tray under his wheelchair and threw it across the table at the boys. It looked a lot like John Winchester's hunting journal.

"What is this?" Dean asked, as he flipped it open and started flicking through the pages.

"Eyewitness accounts, from other hunters. You see, at first most of the hunters were like you two, saying or thinking 'as if'… but eventually, I came across other hunters who had similar stories. The front part of the journal contains the stories of hunters, who were as good as dead, but who was saved at the last minute; they too saw the girl, long brown hair. The back part of the journal is hunters who have similar stories, but they were too out of it or just did not see the girl. You see… there are hundreds of incidences in there… We can't all be crazy!" Pete finished speaking and took a final swig of his beer.

Sam and Dean were starting to come around or at least that was what the look on their faces said. They were both thinking this might be the information, they were supposed to find.

"Why do you think this is the same girl we are looking for?" asked Sam.

"You said she was family and, well… I'm not an idiot, I hear the stories of the Winchester boys and the things they have done for people, for humanity, and it figures that you would be related to this girl, who by all accounts has dedicated her life to saving hunters." Pete said this as if it was the most obvious thing on the planet.

"But, you don't know where she is?" asked Dean, his eyes and heart pleading with Pete, to say he did.

"No, I don't. But, I have got my feelers out there. Everyone knows that I am collecting stories and looking for her. They ring me up from all over, just to tell me their stories, you know…" All of a sudden, Pete stopped as he saw the clock on the wall "Hells bells, I should be off… the Mrs is going to kill me…"

Pete pushed off and spun his chair around to face the exit, "You keep that…" he said motioning to the journal in Dean's hands, "seems to me, you might need it more than me right now…" Pete paused to think, before he added, "third last entry in the front is the latest story I have… the last sighting - in Jefferson City."

"How long ago was that?" Dean asked.

"Three months…" Pete replied, "Best be going. You boys keep in touch and if you find her… Tell her… Thanks." Pete pushed off then and started rolling towards the door.

"Pete…" Dean cried over the noise of the pub,

"Yes?" Pete hollered, looking back over his shoulder.

"Call us… if you get another story?"

"Of course I will boy. Of course…"


	17. Chapter 17

Scene 17

"Do you think it is her?" Sam asked Dean. The boys were sitting in the Impala, the engine off, after leaving the bar.

"I don't know Sammy." Dean admitted.

"Well it's possible, isn't it? I mean we were brought here to find out about Hope, and this is what we got. So… it's possible that this is the information that we had to get. To find her… Well… I am just saying… It could be her?" Sam was rambling; he so desperately wanted this to be the break they needed, to find their sister. Still, it would be a long shot. Just because they had a bunch of stories about a… girl… maybe, saving some hunters did not mean that they would be any closer to finding Hope.

"I don't know Sammy." was all Dean could say.

Dean was weary. He did not want to invest his heart, in this new direction, fearing that it would not be helpful or indeed would not help them find Hope. However, deep inside, a glimmer of optimism was building, despite his mind wanting to shut it down.

"So, what we do now?" Sam was pessimistic now because Dean seemed to be so lacking in enthusiasm for the idea that this could be their sister.

Dean sat there a minute, staring out the front windshield. It looked like he was struggling, an inner turmoil preventing him from taking action.

In time, Dean reached up and turned the keys in the ignition, bringing thImpalala to life. Train, by 3 Doors Down, started playing on the radio, ' _Put me on the train mama, 'Cause I can't take this pain no more, Put me on the train mama, Well I'm leaving today…'_

Finally, Dean announced, "We go to Jefferson City..." as he roared the impala away.


	18. Chapter 18

Scene 18

The boys went to Jefferson City, they looked around for four days, checking in hotels, motels, anywhere people could stay and found no trace of Hope. They did, however, find traces of the two hunters 'the girl' had supposedly helped. They found the motel the hunters had stayed at, a diner and bar they frequented and some gruesome stories from locals about ghosts, poltergeists or witches that have been terrorising them.

Truth was, the locals had no idea what it was that was after them, but Pete's ledger, (as the boys now referred to the story-containing journal) said they had been after a Wendigo. Perhaps, by local accounts, a recently formed Wendigo which was not as feral as most – yet.

The boys managed to get their hands on hospital records that supported the story, that these hunters had both been hospitalised. The records did not show how they got to the hospital, just that they were in a bad way when they did.

Yet the trail ended here, no sign of Hope or a girl with long brown hair, just two hunters who had long since moved on.

The boys had moved on too. Tracing other stories across the states, going backwards in time according to the ledger. On their travels, they unearthed a few potential stories of their own, that may have been hunters helping locals; the stories connected the dots forward but still nothing, that pointed the brothers towards Hope.

After three weeks, and having backtracked the last six stories in the ledger, the boys were ready to call it quits.

They had just run, through the pouring rain, to the Impala. It was parked outside a truck stop, on the outskirts of Cedar Grove, in the middle of nowhere.

Sam was in the driving seat and Dean on the passenger side, both boys were shaking the water out of their hair, "Where to now?" a wet Sam asked aloud, as he set the Impala purring.

"I don't know Sammy! But I am tired of going backwards." Dean was looking at Sam as he spoke. Sam turned towards Dean, and raising his eyebrows, asked, "Going backwards?"

"Yes… Sammy… We are going backwards. Three weeks ago, we were three months behind her. Now we are eight months away," Dean was referring to the fact that the last story they were following up on – had happened eight months ago, "I don't see how we can find her here, or this way. I feel like we are further away than ever before."

Dean sighed and silence enveloped the car.

Both boys were lost in their own thoughts; Sam thinking about where they might have gone wrong – was this ledger nothing to do with their sister? While Dean was thinking that, he had failed in this as he had failed in so many other things over the past years.

"West…" Dean muttered, not sure he had the courage to make this decision, "and North" he added, with a little more confidence, making its way into his voice.

"Dean, we have been travelling east – and now you want to do a complete turnaround, and head west… and north? Why?" Sam questioned, shaking his head, seeking to understand his brother's weird decision.

"Just… do it." Dean commanded.

"No! Not unless you can give me a reason – I mean – we were already three months behind her in the beginning, but that does not mean that we would not be any closer to her just because we had gone east? She could be anywhere. She could have hopped on a plane, and be on the other side of the country – or in another country altogether." Sam sounded frustrated and tired, as he voiced his opinion about Dean's command.

"Sammy…" Dean implored, "I don't know why. I just… Know… Like… I feel it is the right thing to do. West and North…"

"What? You couldn't have felt that, four weeks ago?" Sam declared sarcastically, as he threw the Impala into gear and pulled her out onto the highway, screeching the tyres, a grimace on Dean's face; heading north.

"Shut up and drive, Sammy. Shut up and drive…"


	19. Chapter 19

Scene 19

A day later, the boys were northwest of where they had started out four weeks ago, a tiny little place, about three hours north of Minneapolis.

They had practically driven non-stop, taking turns to drive and sleep, stopping only for food and the usual pit stops. Both boys seemed to be feeling a sort of urgency now, to get on with their search.

The boys were tired of this constant travelling and had decided to take a break in the next motel they came across. Lucky for them, they had come across 'Te Voilà', a motel on the outskirts of town. Lucky, because everything in town was completely booked, because of some local fair; the signposts were dotted all along the road as they drove into town to get dinner; 'Dayshaun Fair' they read.

Once in town, Sam took off to get some supplies at the local store, while Dean headed straight to a small diner, called Bob's Place, for some pie.

Dean was sitting in a booth that was in the front window. Dusk was soon approaching and dinnertime was near, but the diner was empty, except for one lone figure, in a hat, who sat at the counter. To Dean, it looked like the dude was eating a burger and a milkshake and this was giving him ideas; where was Sam?

There was a song playing on the jukebox, ' _Are you alone,_

 _Are you afraid, Are you searching for me, Why did you go I had to stay, Now I'm reaching for you…'_

The Diner was a bit of a throwback to the sixties, but if the truth were told, it was a dive, and this was most likely the reason nobody was there. It did not bother Dean; the pie was good.

Sitting there, eating his pie, Dean heard the squeak of the chair at the counter as it turned. The lone figure had risen to leave. Next, Dean heard footsteps moving towards the door, he turned his head to have a look just as the bell over the door chimed, indicating that the front door had opened.

In that same instant, Dean noticed that the man had left his jacket slung over the chair next to where he had been sitting.

Dean called out, but the door slammed shut as he did so. Dean sighed. He was not in the mood right now to be helping someone, but he knew how cold it was outside so he got up anyway. Dean grabbed the jacket off the chair and took off outside after the man.

Dean called out, "Hey mate. You forgot your jacket." but the man did not seem to hear, he just kept moving away from Dean. Dean started jogging, to catch up to the man and when he was almost there he repeated, "Mate… You left your jacket."

"It is not mine…" Came the reply, only the voice did not seem to match that of a man, but rather a young teen.

"Sure it is… Hey! Stop already." Dean blurted out, for the man just kept walking, not giving Dean a chance to give the jacket back. The man finally stopped walking as Dean added, "It was sitting right by you and I can see you don't have a jacket on. So no need to be so rude about it and just take it already."

The man turned around and for the first ti, e Dean realised it was not a man all, but rather, it was a girl. She had big hazel eyes and although she wore a hat, Dean could see her hair was a strawberry blonde colour and came down just above her shoulders.

"I was not being rude. It is not mine." She said staring at Dean, defying him to say she was lying.

"Alright then… My mistake…" Dean exclaimed, raising both hands into a, 'I give up' position - the jacket clearly visible in his left hand. "I will just leave it here then…" Dean added, draping the jacket over one of the many signs for the Dayshaun fair.

Dean was not sure what was wrong with the girl, but it was clear she did not want his help and he had plenty of other things on his mind, right at that moment, "that way… whoever lost it will see it and can pick it up… and then they will be a bit warmer in this weather…" As he finished talking, Dean turned and headed back to the diner.

When Dean got to the door of the diner, he could see the girl in the reflection of the glass; she stood there looking at the jacket. It looked to Dean, like she wanted to pick it up, but she was clearly undecided. As he opened the door, the girl did pick the jacket up, put it on and then, she walked away.

Dean was still puzzling over what happened with the girl, and the jacket, when Sam walked in to the diner, shopping bag in hand, but he quickly forgot this dilemma when Sam asked, "What is good here?"


	20. Chapter 20

Scene 20

"What? Wait… Slow down. I can barely make out what you are saying?" Dean said into his phone. His phone had just rung, as the boys had been leaving the diner after a huge dinner.

Sam snapped his fingers into the silence, indicating he wanted the keys to the Impala, so he could get in out of the cold. Dean ignored him, holding up one finger to silence him, as he listened intently to whoever was on the other end of the call.

"When?" Dean asked to the night. More silence as he listened. Sam was growing impatient, stamping his feet to warm up, his breath showing on the night air.

"No way… Thanks for calling Pete. We will be in touch." Dean hit the 'end call' button. He was putting the phone back in his pocket as Sam just stood there; a shocked look on his face at the mention of Pete's name. Finally, Sam could not wait any longer.

"That was Pete? What did he say? Does he have something?"

Dean smiled as a looked over the car at Sam, "Yes… A hunter called with a story today. It happened three days ago, about a two-hour drive from here and…" Dean paused to emphasise the next piece of information, "he saw a girl…"

Sam was looking pleased with this piece of information, though he knew, now, there was no way he was going to get to sleep in a bed tonight.

"So… Are we going?" Sam asked Dean, even though he already knew the answer.

"Of course," replied Dean, hopping into the car.

The drive back out of town was quick, and before they knew it, the boys had arrived at the motel.

'Motel' is perhaps the wrong word for what this place was; it was more like a series of small, single-roomed cabins, with kitchenettes and en-suites. The cabins were set back into the forest, away from the main car park where a small home served as housekeeping and reception.

Dean and Sam were in the fourth cabin, the furthermost away from the reception and car park; it was a bit of a walk.

Dean parked up and Sam got out first. As he started making his way up to the cabin, Dean lagged behind - locking up the car - they were leaving soon, but Dean took no chances when it came to his baby.

As Dean walked up the path to the cabin, he paused to have a look around; Dean felt as if someone, or something, was watching him. A slow scan of the surrounding forest revealed nothing to him and, shaking the feeling off, he made his way up and into the cabin.

The boys packed quickly and were ready to go in no time at all. Dean started to walk out when Sam said that he had to 'hit the head' first.

Dean told him to get a hurry on and that he would wait in the car. Making his way down the path, Dean stopped suddenly when he heard a noise, in the forest, to his right.

"Who is there?" he called out… The noise had stopped and nobody replied but spooked by the dark night, Dean slowly moved his bag to his left hand, while reaching inside for his gun. "I'm packing!" he called to the forest.

Still nothing.

Dean moved slowly towards the car trying to shake the feeling that there were now two different sources, watching him. Moments later, he heard a second noise more clearly than that first rustle, and a chill went down his spine, as the hair on the back of his neck rose. For that… was surely the growl of hellhound?

Panic, driving his actions, Dean dropped the bag and put two hands on the gun. He slowly turned around on the spot where he stood, trying to make out where the sound had come from; the poorly lit path revealed nothing to him as he spun. 'Damn it… Where was Sam?' he thought.

Standing still now, he imagined he could hear the sound of breathing. Then… To his right… He realised it was not… his imagination. He could hear… The beast breathing.

Dean's mind raced as he tried to work out if the car or the cabin was closer; and would he make either.

In all of this thinking, were the questions – Why? Why was a hellhound here? He had done nothing to warrant this. He had not made a deal.

The beast growled again, as it moved suddenly; Dean felt the beast rush at him, at the exact moment he decided the car was his best bet. Suddenly, Dean went down… impacted by a collision from his right. 'This is it.' he thought, 'I'm dead'.

Dean rolled, as he hit the ground hard. Then, he was scrambling to his feet, trying to get away from the beast. In this movement, Dean realised it was not the beast that had hit him; there was another person here. They had knocked him down, just before the beast had got to him. They, had saved him?

The other person had managed to roll, as they hit the ground, and had easily come back up into a fighting position and was now, standing there waiting, a knife in their right hand.

Dean's mind seemed to clear for a second – 'the hound was after them' he thought and he, 'had simply been in the way.'

"You need to get out of here…" Dean yelled at the person… But they ignored him, standing there, in their fighting position… watching and listening to the forest around them.

Dean thought they were insane, they obviously did not understand the gravity of the situation.

Dean tried again, desperation changing his voice, making it deeper, "Run… It is all you can do…"

The beast growled again and the person moved a little in the direction of the sound, making sure to keep themselves between Dean and the hound.

Dean, stunned by this action, tried to say something, but the beast came at them then. It was so close to them, Dean could smell its breath. The other person was nearest the beast, as it moved towards the pair. The person lunged left, and in doing so, their right arm raised up and out, slicing into the air. Mid-move, they dove and rolled again coming back up into that same low fighting stance. Dean rushed over to them wanting to protect them, help them or tell them to run… again.

"You need to get out of here…" Dean pleaded with them and in response; the person grabbed Dean by his arm, flinging him around his own body and out of harm's way, just as the beast made another go at him.

Both of them fell to the ground, Dean scrapping his head open. He could smell blood now – 'was it his?' His mind tried to work it out.

In the fall, the other person's hood had dislodged and in the dim light, Dean could make out blonde hair. 'Blonde hair?' he thought – but before Dean could put the pieces together, the beast's menacing growl pierced the night air, and he spun quickly to face the sound.

"Dean!" came the cry from Sam, who was up near the cabin. He had heard the commotion and had come running outside not knowing what to expect. "Stay back, Sammy. It's a hound..." came Dean's cry from farther down the path. It was Sam's turn to feel the panic – they had been here before and it was never good.

As Dean had yelled out, the person grabbed him again – desperately trying to get in front of him – "What the hell?" Dean cried, realising two things in quick succession; it was the girl from the diner, and, she was trying to put herself in between him and the beast. "Would you stop trying to get yourself killed!" Dean managed to get out, as another low growl came from the beast.

It rushed them again and the girl shouldered back into Dean, knocking him down and causing him to sprawl out on the ground. He cursed as he went down. The girl spun around, lashing out with the knife – there was a high howl and a smashing sound as the beast, cut by the knife, crashed into the ground.

"Stay down!" the girl demanded of Dean, as he was trying to get to his feet.

"Are you out of your mind?" Dean yelled, still rising up, "That thing is going to kill you!"

"Not me" she panted, "You! It is after you."

Dean could feel the beast circle back around to get behind him – the girl moved in time with it; a slow dance, the beast circling for an angle on Dean, the girl keeping in time with it, making sure it had no chance.

"It doesn't want me. I made no deal with a demon. Why would it come after me?" Dean, struggling for breath, asked the girl.

"You helped me…" was all she said.

The beast came at them again, trying to rush past the girl in order to get Dean, but she was ready for it – she drove the knife forward and up – another shriek, indicating she had struck the animal, the crash, telling them that it had gone down.

The girl bent low in her stance – waiting for the beasts return, and it did not disappoint. Only this time, she misjudged where the beast was, and she screamed out in pain as her skin ripped open – down her neck and across her right shoulder – four claw marks, blood rushing out. She dropped the knife, as she fell to the ground.

Dean scrambled to help her, but as he made his way to her, the beast crashed into him – taking him to the ground again. He rolled, hard and fast, trying to get the beast off him, 'impossible to fight, what one cannot see' he thought as he did so.

Dean managed to get out from beneath the beast and once more, started to stand up – disorientated from the fall, he struggled to get his bearings – where was the girl? As he scanned the area, Dean heard the beast rush him again – he braced for impact, but it never came.

The girl came from nowhere and took it down again, another whimper as the knife swept through the air, this time slashed by her left hand, towards the invisible beast.

There was only silence now. Dean frozen mid-rise. The girl in her low fighting stance, eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the forest. They were both breathing hard – but trying not to make a sound. It seemed an age – but was only seconds – before the beast came at them again.

The girl, pre-empting the strike, lunged towards the sounds the beast made – slashing with her knife – colliding with the beast mid-air she flew back, and to her right. Dean could hear the sounds of two crashes – hers and the beast's, as they hit the ground.

This time, she did not get back up.

Seconds passed.

Dean could hear footsteps approaching.

"Dean?" It was Sam.

"Dean?" came the second, more urgent, call.

Dean was not sure what to do – call out, bringing attention to himself – alerting the beast, or wait.

"Dean?" fear and frustration were rising in Sam's voice.

"Sammy…" Dean croaked – the fight having taken his voice.

Sam started moving towards where he had heard Dean's cry. He found him moments later – far from the path. Sam could make out two bodies – Dean, half crouched, near a tree and a girl, lying unconscious, on the ground. As Sam put a weird, little pair of glasses on, another figure came into focus – that of the hellhound – lying dead on the ground not far from his brother.

Seeing that it was safe, Sam rushed to his brother "The hound?" gulped Dean, "Dead." Sam's only reply.

At hearing this, Dean moved over to the girl. She was bleeding profusely from several wounds to her shoulder, arms and head.

Dean took off his shirt and balled it up before placing it on her shoulder – applying pressure, to the worst of her wounds. She moaned as he did so – her eyes flickering, and suddenly she was wide-awake and had shoved Dean off; Dean fell backwards into Sam, who caught him awkwardly before he hit the ground.

The girl was trying to get away from him – she was clearly scared. She was skirting backwards on all fours, the effort and pain of doing so, showing on her face.

"It is ok…" Dean tried to calm her down – telling her the beast was dead and that she would be ok – but she kept backing away until she was up against a large tree with nowhere to go.

"Stop… Don't come near me…" She cried out at him.

Sam and Dean were confused, not sure what to do, they both stopped and stood there, watching the girl. Dean tried again to calm her, "It is ok. The beast is dead. I won't hurt you – I only want to help you."

"No." came her scared reply.

There was a standoff. The girl, bleeding and broken, leaning up against a tree; Sam and Dean just meters away from her. Silence throughout the forest.

Dean was thinking that he could outlast her – that, she would pass out soon from blood loss and then, he would be able to help her. Yet somehow, he knew that that would not end well either.

He tried again, "Please – why won't you let us help you?"

Eventually, she replied, "Because it will hurt you."

Dean was confused. He was not sure what to make of this. "The beast is dead…" He started again, thinking she may not have heard the first time.

"Another will come…" the girl countered before he could finish his sentence.

"So…" thinking out loud now, Dean continued, "A hellhound attacked me because I helped you, back in the diner, and, if I help you now – another… hellhound… will come and try to kill me?" Dean could not believe what he was saying and was sure the girl was going to laugh at him. Instead, she replied,

"Yes."

"Why?" Dean countered.

After a short silence, the girl answered, "I don't know. They just do." Her breathing was quick and shallow now – the pain registering on her face. Dean thought she must be very close to passing out now. He tried to reason with her before that happened, "Problem is… I have already helped you again. When you were out cold – I started to stop your bleeding…" he let that statement hang there, before continuing, "So… I'm already doomed… if what you are saying… is the truth?"

"It is." was all the girl managed to say – her voice barely audible now, as she grew weaker and weaker from the blood loss.

"What's your name?" Dean asked, desperate now for her to stay awake – for some reason he wanted her permission to help her; he did not want this girl to hate him when she woke up later.

"Chayse." She said in response to his question.

"Well… Chayse…" Dean started the negotiation, "As I have already helped you and another hellhound is coming for me – will you please let me finish helping you? That way… you will get better… and then you can help me take out the next hound and I promise… I promise…" he said carefully, "that I won't help you after that and you will be good to go." Dean hoped that this would make sense to Chayse, as he stood there waiting for her reply.

Chayse spent some time thinking it over when she finally asked, "You promise?" Dean nodded and then quietly into the night she sighed, "Ok…" before she passed out.


	21. Chapter 21

Scene 21

"Dean!" the word was short, abrupt and full of accusation; Sam could not believe what he had just heard his brother say.

"Help me move her to the cabin, Sammy." Dean's comeback. Dean was standing over by the girl now, but Sam had not moved since she had passed out.

"What? No." Sam tripped over his words. "I can't believe you are my brother right now!"

"Yeah – well ok… just help me move her to the cabin – you can lay it on thick when we get there!" Dean shot back at Sam, he was too hurt and physically lost, to lift her by himself or he would have.

Sam dutifully came over and carefully picked Chayse up, carrying her back to the cabin. He lay her down on the bed nearest the door, while Dean went for the medical kit in Sam's bag.

Dean moved over to the bed, opening the kit, he set the supplies out on the table beside the bed. Quickly, he started to attend to Chayse's wounds.

"Dean…" Sam started again, but Dean cut him short, "You can either shut up or keep talking and help!" he grunted from the bed. Sam moved over to the kitchenette and after milling around for a few seconds, he came back over to the bed with a bowl of water and a tea towel. Sam sat down opposite Dean on the bed and started to clean Chayse's head wounds.

"Dean…" he began slowly, "You can't seriously be thinking that you will help her, and then leave her to fend for herself once the next hound has…" Sam faltered towards the end, not able to finish the sentence – so astonished that his brother could be so callous.

"Sammy… Dude… When have I ever, 'not helped' someone who needed it?" Dean was clearly upset that Sam was thinking this way, but he kept working at Chayse's wounds. Sam, however, stopped.

"But you said… You told her that you would…" Sam sighed; frustrated that he could not string his words together in a coherent sentence.

"Sam!" Dean was stunned that Sam had believed what he had said earlier to Chayse, began, "She was scared. She did not want our help. All I could see was her waking up – mid us trying to patch up her wounds – and striking out at us to stop her. Look… She needs our help now, and, she will need our help when she comes to. Our kind of help. We can figure out why this is happening to her and stop it. I hope… Either way – we help her." Dean, who had stopped cleaning the wounds to say this, turned and went back to work.

"But you said…" Sam stopped short of finishing that sentence and instead countered with, "You were lying?"

"Whatever it takes, Sammy. We can fight another hound and then you can help her. Either way, she isn't going anywhere without us close behind her – until we know what is happening here…" Dean did not look up as he said this, but he sensed a calmness come over Sam.

"And Hope?" Sam asked.

It was Dean's turn to sigh now. He slowed what he was doing – almost stopping – and trying to stay positive, he said, "We will find her. We are going to find her. In the meantime, we help her…" Dean motioned to Chayse, lying on the bed, and looking over at Sam, he continued, "We have never stopped helping others. Not ever. No matter how bad things got for us or how much we wanted to do something else – we helped anyone near us, who was in trouble. Even if we did not want to – we just did. That is not going to change now. No matter how close we are to Hope. We help Chayse."


	22. Chapter 22

Scene 22

Sam was out cold on the cabin's other bed, while Dean sat in the small lounge chair, watching Chayse as she slept. She had stirred a few times in the past couple of hours, since their fight with the hellhound, but she had not woken.

The boys had called Castiel, and left a message for him to come to them as soon as he could; they needed his help. Sam did not really believe that hellhounds would attack or kill anybody who helped this girl, but Dean, who had been the target of one such hound, was not taking any chances. Together the boys had put up defences around the Cabin; maybe they would gain some time, if or when it attacked.

Dean believed if anyone would know what was happening, or had a chance of finding out what was happening – it was Castiel. Now all they could do was wait. Wait for Castiel. Wait for Chayse to wake up and explain what she knew.

Chayse started to stir again. Her head moving from side to side, the beginnings of a nightmare perhaps. Dean rose from the chair and made his way to her side. She was starting to move more quickly now, her breathing short and raspy. Dean reached out and held her left shoulder. He carefully shook her, trying to wake her from her dreams. He called her name calmly and spoke to her in a soothing voice.

Sam stirred behind him, woken by the cries that were now coming from Chayse, as the nightmare became unbearable.

Suddenly Chayse was awake and fighting Dean off – he called her name several times, as he tried to stop her from hitting him. Her bandages ripping off and fresh blood appearing where the glue, the boys had used, was failing. Dean wrestled with Chayse trying to wrap her up in a bear hug, all the while talking to her, attempting to calm her down.

Eventually, she settled, as Dean held her, rocking her back and forth and continued talking in a soothing tone – telling her it was all right. Everything was all right.

"How long is it?" Chayse whispered.

Not absolutely sure what she was asking, but guessing it was about how long it had been since the attack, Dean replied, "Three hours. It is ok. We have set up some precautions to stop it getting to us straight away. Ssshhhh…" Dean continued rocking and talking, trying to get her back to sleep. After some time, he realised she had fallen back to sleep and he carefully lay her back down on the bed.

Sam was there, bandages ready, to patch her wounds up again. When he was finished, he cleaned up the mess and went over to sit on the couch where Dean had been.

Dean rose from the bed and moved over to the kitchenette. Wanting a beer, he settled for the only thing available, a glass of water. He started to walk back to the bed, drinking from the glass, when there was a low knock on the door. Changing direction, he walked over to the door and opened it.

Castiel stood in the doorway.

"What is going on?" Castiel asked as he took in Dean's face – fresh cuts, grazes and bruises all over it. His eyes scanned the room and found Sam, who was unscathed and sitting on the couch. Castiel's eyes then moved back across Dean's face and finally settled on the girl, lying injured, on the bed.

"You found her." Castiel's voice was soft but sure.

"What? Found who?" asked Dean, confused by Castiel's comment.

Castiel took an age to reply; his eyes moved from the girl on the bed, to Dean, to Sam and back to the girl.

Finally, into the silence, Castiel whispered… one word…

"Hope."

 **The End**

 **...**

 **If you made it this far - Thanks for reading... Thanks to the three followers and 1 fav... I hope you enjoyed it... I certainly enjoyed writing it (especially for one student in our school book club, she knows who... - who doesn't like to read - but she'll read fanfiction - yay...)**

 **I do have another episode, just needs typing up (and another stuck in my mind) - not sure there is an audience out there though - think I'll go back to just being a Math teacher :)** **and live happily in the belief that it can't have been that bad! - as nobody said anything (rather than - nobody read it all - haha)**

 **All feedback welcome - if you want to leave a review... Thanks again...**


	23. Preview: God's Gift of Hope

_**Then**_ …

The boy lay in the middle of the room. He was seven, maybe eight years old. The room was much older. It was a sitting room and not the kind you bring company over to see. There was an eclectic mess cluttering the space.

A large leather-covered desk that had seen better days; a few single sofa chairs; a lamp or two. The sun came in through the dirty window and had dust mites bouncing on its beam. There were books… everywhere… and old pieces of paper, maps and hundreds of weird trinkets.

Yet none of this held the interest of the boy. He just lay there looking up at the ceiling, as if he were gazing at a sky full of white clouds.

"And what is that over there?" the boy asked as he pointed towards the corner of the room. He listened intently to the explanation that ensued, but there was nobody in the room with him.

The boy nattered on like this for a while. Asking questions, clearly hearing replies. He seemed to be discussing cloud patterns; sometimes he answered questions, even though nobody had seemed to ask him anything.

A man watched from the doorway to the next room. Concern masked on his face. After listening to this strange, one-sided conversation, he turned and walked to the phone mounted on the wall of the kitchen.

He dialled slowly and after placing the call, he left a simple message "Have him call me. ASAP."

The man sat waiting, beer in hand, at the table in the kitchen. The table was old, like the other furniture in the house, with mismatched chairs, whose covers were aged and splitting in more than one place.

Dust mites danced on the sunbeams in this room too; silence bounced around the room.

The shrill bell of the phone made the man jump. He moved over quickly, to pick it up.

"Hello?" There was a pause as the man listened to the voice on the other end, "I think you had better be heading back. The boy is not right. He is just lying there talking to himself or something else… If you catch my drift?" More silence, more listening, "Idjit!" the man said with a slow drawl, "if he is talking to a ghost, you would think I would know about it… I am telling you, John, something is not right with him. It is like he is…" he stopped short, not knowing how to explain it properly, "somewhere else, with someone else, in his mind… but his body is here…" This was his best attempt at explaining, but it did not sit well with him, "I don't know how to tell you better. Get back here and help him." the man demanded.

He stood silently, listening to the voice on the other end and suddenly he dumped the phone back on its hook, saying as he did so, "Thanks for nothing… You idjit".

The man wandered back to the sitting room. He watched the boy as he continued his conversation with the invisible voice. Deliberately, so the boy would hear, the man cleared his throat.

"I have to go…" the boy whispered to nobody, he blinked his eyes several times as he added, "I am sorry…"

"Dean…" The man said aloud to the boy, "Go get your brother. It is time to get ready for dinner."

"Yes, Uncle Bobby." the boy said as he rolled over, rose to his feet and headed out of the room.

 _ **Now**_ …

The glass slipped from Dean's hand. It bounced, rather than smashed, as it hit the edge of the carpet, making a loud thud, and rumble, as it rolled from the carpet across the floorboards.

"Cass…" Dean began, but he could not continue. Sam rose from the chair, walking over to Castiel and Dean, who were near the door.

"Castiel?" Sam asked, "What are you saying?"

"You found her! You found Hope. I thought I was clear?" came Castiel's puzzled reply.

"Cass… That is not Hope!" Sam motioned to the girl on the bed, "That girl's name is Chayse. She is a reason we rang you… She needs your help." Sam was trying desperately to diffuse the situation, Castiel believing the boys had found Hope and Dean's stunned silence, at Castiel's wrong conclusion.

"I don't know why she said her name was Chayse, but I am telling you… That girl… Lying on the bed… Is Hope!" as Castiel said this he made to move toward the girl, but Dean shifted to stand in his way.

"You are wrong. Why would she use a different name? She has no reason to." Dean's voice was strained; he was struggling. He wanted to believe what Castiel was saying, but if he were wrong then Dean feared that he would lose it. The search, and continually coming up empty, had taken its toll on Dean and he was beginning to feel lost or worse, useless.

Worse still. What if Castiel was right and this was Hope? What a life she had been forced to live. Tears sprung to Dean's eyes, as a sadness swelled up in his heart. This girl had suffered. Having hellhounds, hunting and killing anyone who had helped her. He remembered now, how rude she had been when he had tried to return that jacket to her. Rude… because that might stop him from trying to help her, which in turn might save him from being the next dead person, for which she was responsible.

No… He shook his head as he stood there thinking it through… He did not want this to be Hope. For that to be his sister's burden was unbearable to him. Yet somewhere, deep in his heart, he knew Castiel was right; had known the minute he saw Castiel lay eyes on her.

"Dean…" Castiel pleaded, "It is Hope. I was there from the day she was born, to just after her eighteenth birthday. I would know her anywhere… I do not know why she is using another name… but it is her… It is Hope." Castiel had hold of Dean's shoulders, as he looked into his eyes, pleading with Dean to believe him.

Dean shrugged him off and made for the door. He rushed out into the cold night air, and leaning over the edge of the small porch; he threw up. Retching, repeatedly, broken by what little he knew of Hope's life, of Hope's burden.

* * *

 **More on the way - look for the NEW story - God's Gift of Hope... Follow it, for alerts... if you like... (up before Christmas - I promise)**


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